


The Red Queen and The Blue Princess

by 215helen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book: Fire and Blood, Dragons, House Targaryen, Multi, sort of self insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28855287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/215helen/pseuds/215helen
Summary: The Winter Child, she was called. Perhaps in a different life, Gael Targaryen would be destined to be forgotten. Forever regulated to a mere name on a tapestry of Kings and Queens. This is not that life. For she is a woman, a dragon, the Blue Princess. And she will serve her Red Queen.
Relationships: Alysanne Targaryen/Jaehaerys I Targaryen, Corlys Velaryon/Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Aemon), Gael Targaryen and Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Aemon), Jocelyn Baratheon/Aemon Targaryen (Son of Jaehaerys I)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	1. Rhaenys I

#  Rhaenys I 90AC

“Are you sure that this is what you want, Rhae?” Rhaenys spun away from her mirror, her white lace wedding dress dragging against the floor as she turned. “You look beautiful, truly, every inch a Princess.”

Gael was lounging on Rhaenys’ bed, an old book on dragon lore propped open in the crook of her arm, her blue skirts had rolled up to reveal the breeches Gael always insisted on wearing under her dresses. Pieces of her messy, silver blonde curls fell into her face that she pushed away so that purple eyes met Rhaenys’ own purple ones. 

“I want him, Gael,” Rhaenys responded, smoothing out the front of her dress, glancing over her shoulder to look at the view from the back. “And get your feet off my bed!” she cried in mock outrage. 

“It would be safer to marry Viserys,” Gael stated, laughing as she pushed herself up into a seated position. “Never mind the fact that Lord Velaryon is old enough to be your father. Is in fact older than Aemon by two years .” 

Rhaenys sighed, lifting the sides of her skirts before crossing the room to seat herself next to Gael. “Viserys is a child, Gael. And Corlys is a fine man.” 

“Corlys is fine now. But in ten years he will be an old man and you will still be young.” Gael placed a hand on her niece’s shoulder. “I am frail, Rhae. I have long accepted that my body will never be my strength, but I am no lackwit like the vipers at court will claim.” 

“Any man who considers you a lackwit must be one himself. Father says that you must be wiser than Vaegon and he is an Archmaester at the Citadel,” Rhaenys scoffed. 

“Ugh, do not compare me to him. Vaegon cares only for sums and numbers, he has no taste for anything actually useful,” she declared. “But if Aemon says your Aunt is wise then clearly you should listen to my advice,” Gael teased, to Rhaenys’ amusement. Gael’s smile died as she pursed her lips. “Aerea Targaryen was the rightful heir after the death of Maegor and she was passed over without a thought for my Father. Many Lords of the Realm would rather press the claim of Baelon’s line than submit to the rule of a woman, Rhae, a danger you could suppress if you would only wait a year or two and marry Viserys.” 

Gael shut the book on dragon lore and put it to the side. She rose to her feet and began to lightly pace around Rhaenys’ chambers. Her aunt was a short girl, the top of her head did not even reach her shoulders, and Rhaenys doubted that she would grow much more, having inherited the Queen’s slight build. Yet sometimes Rhaenys would forget that Gael was only ten, younger than Viserys, the cousin that she mocked as a mere boy, by three years. The rest of the family never batted an eye, Uncle Baelon would jape that his mother must have eaten a book when she was pregnant with Gael, and her mother would remark that perhaps Alysanne’s Winter Child had been touched by the Seven. 

Rhaenys shook her head, the others did not know Gael as she did. Gael was her closest companion, her sister in everything but name. No, what Gael possessed was ambition, and she was clever enough to know that the only way she could avoid being bartered off to the highest paying Lord was to prove her worth to House Targaryen and House Targaryen alone. 

“Corlys is respected. Targaryens have married Velaryons for generations. He is the wealthiest man in the Seven Kingdoms. Do you truly think that Viserys would be a better consort?” she questioned. Gael paused in her steps. 

“Lord Velaryon is powerful as he is wealthy. From the standpoint of a marriage alliance he brings far more to the table than Viserys,” Gael paused by the door to grab her wooden walking stick. She fidgeted with its dragon pommel before tapping the end several times on the floor. “Were you the man and he the woman, your choice is brilliant… the Lords however, will only see a man they are already envious of managing to make himself King.” 

“The marriage contract, signed by myself, both our Fathers, Corlys and his brothers makes it abundantly clear that I will be Queen and he, Prince Consort. That our first son will take the Targaryen name upon his ascension to Prince of Dragonstone!” Rhaenys quickly jumped to her feet, before throwing Gael’s book from her bed onto the floor in rage. 

“I know that,” Gael wrapped her arms around Rhaenys, burying her face into her shoulder, before craning her neck to look Rhaenys in the eye. “I believe that Corlys will be a wonderful husband and I just want you to be happy,” Gael wiped a loose tear from her eyes, she looked so fragile like this, huddled in Rhaenys’ arms. “You want the Iron Throne. It is your right, by the laws of gods and men. And I believe with all my heart that you have the potential to be a great Queen.” Gael untangled herself from Rhaenys’ embrace and leaned on her staff. “Marry Corlys, Rhae. He is the one that you want, who am I to insist you be miserable?”

“So you agree then?” Rhaenys’ mouth broke out into a grin. 

“Does the opinion of your ten year old aunt even matter?” at Rhaenys’ nod, Gael smiled. “As long as you remember that your position is not secure. You will have to privately court the Lannisters... I arranged for my maid, Vera, to serve Lord Tymond’s wife,” Rhaenys raised an eyebrow at that. “What? You would be surprised by how easy it was. The man was the wealthiest Lord in the Seven Kingdoms until Lord Velaryon hit the jackpot, from what Vera overheard, Lord Tymond is not pleased by your choice of consort, however he could be persuaded....” 

“A marriage alliance then,” Rhaenys resigned. “I cannot offer him a Lannister Queen so I will have to sell off one of my future daughters to Casterly Rock for his support…” she backed and sat down on the edge of her bed. “Aunt Viserra died trying to escape an arranged marriage. Aunt Daella died at eight and ten married to a man with children older than her. How am I any better than Grandfather then?” She sniffled into her sleeve without a concern for her dress. 

“You will foster the boy,” Gael slowly lowered herself to the floor, kneeling in front of her niece. “You will allow your daughter to grow up with him. Should he treat her poorly, I or your husband will arrange for a tragic accident that no one can trace back to our House. Now quit crying, Rhae!” Gael grabbed Rhaenys’ hand and attempted to pull her to her feet. 

“Alright, alright!” Rhaenys dabbed at her eyes and brushed aside Gael’s futile determination to help as she stood. 

“You are my blood, my niece, my sister in everything but name. Now and always.” 

“Always,” Rhaenys repeated, grasping Gael’s hand. 

“I will stand by you, Rhae. Do not forget it,” Gael performed a curtsey Queen Alysanne would’ve been proud of, “My Queen.” 

Rhaenys threw her head back and laughed. She pushed her black braid back over her shoulder before she mimicked Gael’s curtsey with one of her own. “My Lady Hand.” 

“Hand of the Queen,” Gael mused. “I like the sound of that, but wouldn’t it be Princess Hand, though?” Rhaenys glared at her aunt only for Gael to stifle giggles with her hand. “I will probably have to settle with being Mistress of Whisperers, but I supposed a maiden can dream.”

“The dress, it's perfect!” The two Princesses turned to see Rhaenys’ mother, Lady Jocelyn, enter the bedchamber, followed by Queen Alysanne and Princess, now Septa, Maegelle. 

“What about the train,” Maegelle piped up, “perhaps it should be a bit shorter?” 

Rhaenys was lost as she was battered by a sea of Ladies admiring her gown and all she did was notice that Gael was no longer by her side. 


	2. Corlys I

#  Corlys I 90AC

“My Lord, my Princess has requested your presence,” Corlys glanced at the comely dark haired serving girl as she grasped the hem of her dark blue skirts and curtseyed before him. His youngest brother, Monford, slapped him on the shoulder before moving his gaze up and down the girl’s body. 

“Well brother, it seems your Princess has a need for you! Best not keep her waiting,” Corlys rolled his eyes as Monford snorted into his wine. His brother never did have any sense. Corlys rose to his feet and handed his drink to Monford, knowing full well the man would be able to finish it off. He nodded at the serving girl in consent, before waving off the rest of his party to ensure they did not come after him, 

The serving girl was quiet as he followed her to a chamber a short walk away from the hall that he knew was not Rhaenys’. Nonetheless, he followed her through the thick wooden doors anyway, thinking perhaps that his future bride had wished to meet with him alone. To his surprise, the room was plain, with no tapestries or adornments on the walls, and clearly abandoned. Corlys noticed trails of dust on the floors and the only light came from a singular window, no candles having been lit.

“Thank you, Vera,” a small voice commented from the other side of the chamber. Corlys noticed a slight slip of a girl leaning back in a large armchair opposite a wooden table and another chair. She was incredibly pale, her skin had a sickly look to it, and her long, loose silver hair was held back by a cobalt headband. Realization dawned on Corlys when he spotted the tall, dark wooden staff leaning against the chair. “Please make sure that no one interrupts?” Princess Gael requested with a friendly smile. 

“Of course, my Princess,” the serving girl swiftly left the room with a curtsey before shutting the doors behind him. 

“My Lord Velaryon,” Princess Gael clasped her pale hands together on the table before her, raising her neck to meet his eyes. “Would you not sit down?” she waved her hand on the seat across from her. 

“Princess Gael,” he acknowledged with a bow of his head as he pulled out the chair and took a seat. 

“I suppose I should congratulate you, my Lord. On your betrothal,” the Princess smiled brightly. “Despite my frequent persuasions that having a future good nephew five and twenty years my senior would be rather absurd, my niece has made it clear that she will marry no other man but you,” she stated firmly.

“Should I not be pleased to know that my future bride only has eyes for me?” Corlys replied, glancing down at the frail Princess. 

“Regardless of my concern over your significant age,” Corlys scoffed at that, only to receive a raised eyebrow from the girl, “I do believe that she will be quite pleased with you as her husband. You are an impressive man, Lord Velaryon.” The Princess tilted her head in acknowledgment. “Yet I fear that you are not capable of giving nor ensuring that Princess Rhaenys claims what is rightfully hers.” 

“The Iron Throne,” Corlys leaned to the side of the table to grab a pitcher before pouring himself a goblet of wine. “For a known lackwit, you have quite the silver tongue, Princess,” Corlys lifted his goblet to take a sip. 

“You have sailed to the end of the world, Lord Velaryon. Already a legend while you still live. Surely you of all people know the difference between the eyes of an honest man and what everybody knows?” Princess Gael looked younger than her years as she sat timidly before him, fiddling with a loose curl then placing it behind her ear. However when she spoke, Corlys could not picture her as a girl of ten.

“Indeed, Princess. You are a clever girl, too clever. Yet Aemon has made it clear, Rhaenys is his heir.”

“He is the Prince of Dragonstone, not the King. Should my Father declare to the Realm that Baelon in second in line after Aemon the Lords would follow suit,” Princess Gael interjected. “Lords who happened to believe that House Velaryon has risen above their station, all in thanks to you,  _ Sea Snake _ .” 

“Our King and Queen have a Velaryon mother. As did the Conqueror and his sisters. There is Targaryen blood in every Velaryon and Velaryon blood in every Targaryen. I care not for the opinions of Andal Lords when my House is the Blood of Old Valyria,” Corlys dismissed.

“Even dragons have to play the Game of Thrones, Lord Velaryon,” Princess Gael countered. “The Conqueror may have changed the rules but at the end of the day he still played. Did he not rule in peace? How might the Realm have fared if his sons had understood when to play the Game and when to bring Fire and Blood? Rhaenys has been a part of the board from the day she entered the world, and she is about to make a gamble with her next move.” 

“There it is,” Corlys scoffed. “You tried to convince Rhaenys to marry Prince Viserys. To unite the claims. I will admit, the plan had merit. Was this your goal, Princess? To persuade me after you failed with Rhaenys?” 

“I am not arrogant to believe that anything I say could possibly dissuade you,” the Princess reached across the table to grab his wine before taking a sip.“I do not trust you, Lord Velaryon, not yet, at least. However I have accepted that you will fight until your last breath to crown Rhaenys and her line,” the Princess laughed as she handed his wine back to him. “After all, what man would not wish to make his son a King?”

“You seem quite concerned that His Grace will name Prince Baelon heir, and Prince Viserys after him. If you are so confident with your assessment, Princess, your nephew is still unmarried. Wed him and perhaps you could be the mother of a King. After all, what little girl does not dream of being the Queen?” Corlys mocked, placing his goblet back on the table. 

“I shall not wed Viserys, Lord Velaryon,” the Princess shook her head. “Rhaenys will have you as her husband and Lord Baratheon as her uncle. Who does Viserys have? Should the King pass over the rightful heir then he must wed Viserys to the daughter of a Great House. Not his simpleton Aunt… Rhaenys is everything to me, Lord Velaryon. I will not betray her position as Queen Regnant to be a mere Consort.” The girl’s expression was a mask of courtesy but Corlys was not blind to see the fire in the little Princess’ purple eyes. 

“What do you want from me, Princess?” 

“Regardless of our selfish motivations, Rhaenys would be an excellent Queen. Far better than Viserys could ever be a King,” the Princess leaned forward, her voice lowering. “I want you to help me guarantee that she sits on the Iron Throne. To ensure that you understand that her position is not, and has never been, secure.” 

“An alliance then,” Corlys threw his head back and laughed. “Forgive me, Princess, it is not every day that a man finds an ally in a child!” 

“Do not mock me, my Lord. You are wealthy and powerful, yet your status ensures that every move you make in this cesspool my Father calls court is watched. Who besides my mother and Rhaenys watches the poor, frail, but sweet  _ Winter Child _ ?” The Princess spat out the final words. “The daggers in the night are just as deadly as the swords in the day, Lord Velaryon. There is value in being invisible, my Lord, and I care not for recognition and glory as you may, so long as my Queen receives her due.” 

“You will be wiser than your Father one day, Princess. I understand why Rhaenys places such faith in you. Yet you have admitted yourself that you do not trust me. Why should I ally myself with you?” Corlys pondered. 

“I have no reason to deceive you. Your wedding will bind you to Rhaenys, Lord Velaryon. To turn on you would be to turn on my niece. For Rhaenys, there is nothing I will not do, even if it means giving you my trust.”

“For Rhaenys…” he mused. “I believe we have an arrangement then Princess.”

“Good,” she sternly replied without a blink. 

Corlys scooted his chair back and rose to his feet before holding out his hand. The Princess grasped her staff and slowly began to stand, her pale blue dress shifting from her movements. She reached and grasped his sleeve, her delicate hand not large enough to fit even half way around his forearm despite her best efforts. 

“What is our next step then, Princess Gael?” Corlys questioned as he wrapped his right hand around her forearm. 

“The Queen in the East became a dragonrider at twelve. Her record has held for more than fifty years,” the Princess’ grin was enough to make Corlys shudder. “Don’t you think it’s about time for another Princess to take the mantle?” 

_ What have I got myself into?  _ Was all Corlys Velaryon, the legendary Sea Snake could think as he looked down upon Alysanne’s Winter Child. 


	3. Rhaenys II

Rhaenys II 90AC  
“You have become reckless lately,” Rhaenys declared, glancing down at her aunt by her side as the two Princesses walked side by side. The Dragon Pit that housed her Meleys along with the majority of the Targaryen dragons towered in all its glory in front of her. “Claiming a dragon…” Rhaenys muttered under her breath. “Do you know how easily this could go wrong?

“Are you walking out on me?” Gael paused to face Rhaenys, carefully surrounding their vicinity to ensure their guards were not within earshot. She dug the end of her staff into the ground of the dirt road. “As far as the guards and the Court know, my niece and I are here with the Queen’s permission to go for a final flight together, as we often do, before she gets married.”

Rhaenys scoffed before fiddling with the dagger she always wore on her hip. Gael rolled her eyes in response and motioned for the guards to keep moving. Rhaenys watched as the Dragon Keepers slowly pushed the double doors to the Pit open. 

“But we are not here to merely ride Meleys. I was three and ten when I claimed her and twice your size. Are you honestly not afraid?” 

“I would be a fool if I was not afraid, Rhae…” Gael cocked her head, fidgeting with the collar of her riding dress. 

“Then why will you not wait until you are older, Gael?” Rhaenys pleaded as the two Princesses walked under the arch of the Pit. “My own Father did not claim a dragon until he was eight and ten, I would not think any less of you if you did the same.” 

“Is it truly hard for you to believe that I may just wish to soar among the clouds?” Gael questioned sharply. “When I am with you on Meyles…” Gael looked off into the distance, “there is no greater feeling in the world. I want to fly, Rhae.” 

Rhaenys’ gaze softened as she directed the dragon keepers to retrieve Meleys’ saddle. The Red Queen was not the largest of dragons, but she was by far the swiftest, and her scarlet scales shone brightly in the sunlight. Rhaenys reached up to her mount to stroke Meleys’ copper horns, much to Gael’s amusement. 

“She’s such a sweetheart, Rhae,” Gael cooed. “Can I pet her?” Rhaenys snorted at that. Only Gael, brilliant as she was, would consider a fire breathing dragon to be a sweetheart. 

“What is she? Your kitten?” Rhaenys raised an eyebrow. “My Meleys is a fierce mount worthy of the future Queen.” 

“Relax, Rhae,” Gael leaned forward and pressed her cheek to Meyles’ snout, much to her rider’s horror. “See? She likes me,” the tiny Princess giggled. “And don’t insult my cat. Lily is the most adorable cat you have ever seen.”

“Don’t play the innocent act with me, Aunt,” Rhaenys commanded. “You and I both know you dislike cats and only got one so that Grandmother would stop comparing you to your sister.” 

Gael removed herself from Meyles, and the Red Queen released a puff of smoke from her snout in response, charring the front of Gael’s blue riding leathers. Her aunt attempted to wipe away the dark stains with her hand yet was soon forced to admit that the garment had been ruined. She turned to face her niece, leaning slightly on the wooden staff she always carried, and her mouth tightened.

“My mother cares for me, I am well aware of that, Rhae. Yet I am never Gael. I am merely a comfort, a reminder of dear, dead, Daenerys, Daella, Alyssa and now Viserra,” Gael sighed. “And I cannot hate her for that. But if begging for one of the annoying, spineless, hairballs that my sister was terrified of,” Gael spewed, clenching her fists. “Means that she at least remembers that I am not Daella, then I will gladly pretend that I adore cats.” 

“Please don’t tell me that you wish to claim a dragon for her recognition, Gael. I promise that you do not need to outshine the others for my love,” Rhaenys begged. “I can understand your anger…” Gael surged forward to grab Rhaenys’ hand, taking care not to bump into the resting dragon. 

“I know, Rhae. I know,” Gael assured, leaning up to wrap her arms around Rhaenys’ shoulders. 

“You are Gael Targaryen,” Rhaenys declared. “You already have a spine of steel, you do not need a dragon to be strong. Your sisters died too young, I beg you Gael, do not join them in death.” 

“I am not my sisters, Rhae,” Gael fiddled with a piece of hair from her braid. “Yet what will prevent me from sharing their fates?”

“You will not,” Rhaenys insisted. “I will not allow it.” 

“You would not,” Gael acknowledged, stepping back from Rhaenys’ embrace. “But my Father would,” she countered. “What is to stop him from commanding the Winter Child to marry an old Lord of his choosing in a few years? Or sent me to the Silent Sisters like he did Saera and threatened for Daella?” 

“A dragon,” Rhaenys realized, digging her boot into the sand. She turned to stare into Meleys’ golden eyes. “Grandfather would never send a dragonrider to the Faith. Nor would he risk sending you to wed an Andal Lord if he would have access to such power.” 

“Don’t you see?” Gael tilted her head slightly. She gave Rhaenys a small smile. “Saera was forbidden to claim a dragon, even before her scandal. So were Daella and Viserra. As soon as Maegelle and Vaegon were promised to the Sept and the Citadel they were never allowed to step into either the Dragon Pit nor the Dragonmont again.” 

“Grandfather has yet to declare his intentions for your future,” Rhaenys stated, straightening her back. She paid heed to the guards to be sure none were too close.

“As soon as I flower,” Gael scrunched up her nose at the fact. “He will most definitely decide my fate. During which it is possible that you could be on Driftmark with your husband… Please, Rhae, this could be my last chance.” 

Rhaenys placed her head in her hands. She had always known that Gael did not have the relationship with her father that she herself had with her own. Rhaenys believed that somewhere, deep down, her aunt loved Grandfather, yet she did not trust him, and that was what mattered most. Jaehaerys Targaryen had always been a better father to his sons, Rhaenys thought. He did not know how to understand daughters, and whatever willingness he had had to try had died with Aunt Saera’s disgrace. Aunt Viserra and Gael had never felt they had a Father in Jaehaerys. They only saw a King. And now Viserra is ashes in an urn, Rhaenys reminded herself bitterly. 

She stepped back from Meleys, and ordered the Dragon Keepers to begin releasing her chains. The roof was thankfully already open, so she would not need to wait too long. 

“Perhaps you would like to look at the hatchlings, Gael,” Rhaenys smiled sweetly, her voice louder than before. “It will be a few moments until Meleys can take flight.” 

“Of course, Rhae,” Gael responded innocently. “Come find me when we can take off.” 

Rhaenys nodded and turned to observe as the Keepers carefully removed the thick metal chains that bound Meleys to the dirt. She noticed as one guard managed to get too close to the Red Queen’s snout and have to dive out of the way from a burst of flame. Slowly, Meleys was able to stretch her wings, the pink membranes flashing in the light, contrasting prettily with her copper crest. The men had just finished strapping the saddle to Meleys’ back, when a Keeper came into her view.   
“Whenever you are ready, Princess Rhaenys,” he stated quickly with a bow. Rhaenys wanted to scoff, yet she only nodded her head and sent him on his way. She much preferred the Dragonmont where she could prepare Meleys herself, Rhaenys mused as she walked towards the side stables to find Gael. Half the guards here were only smallfolk with no knowledge of dragons, surely it was a miracle that all of them were not killed. 

She passed a few clusters of dragon eggs, tucked safely within separate compartments attached to the walls of the Pit. Most were on Dragonstone, but a few remained here. Rhaenys stopped when she reached the enclosure that typically held the hatchlings. She scanned the area, but there was no sign of Gael, only tiny little hatchlings the size of cats in various patterns and colors that looked more like lizards than dragons, if Rhaenys was being truthful. 

There were several Keepers scattered around the Pit, as Rhaenys walked along the perimeter. Most were settled around the great Balerion, yet she knew that Gael had no intention of claiming that dragon. The legendary Black Dread that had once conquered the Seven Kingdoms with fire and blood was no longer worthy of his name. He was now but a mass of dark scales curled up into a position that made him appear more like a giant ball than the magnificent beast he must have been when her grandparents were children. 

Rhaenys continued her search, only to pause at the next enclosure. A petite silver blonde girl was stroking the neck of a blue dragon about the size of a warhorse a few shades darker than her charred dress. It was a she-dragon, Rhaenys could tell, with a copper crest and belly that reminded her of Meleys, even though this dragon had yet to hatch when Rhaenys had claimed hers. Only this one was blue, possessing deep cobalt scales that covered her wings and body. 

“She’s beautiful, Gael,” Rhaenys announced. 

Gael turned around to face Rhaenys. The dragon stepped forward and gently rested her head on Gael’s outstretched arm that held her walking staff. Her eyes were a deep silver, and her horns were the same copper of her underbelly.

“I thought I wanted Dreamfyre,” she spoke softly, “she’s the best choice, but…” Gael tilted her chin up to meet her eyes. “Meyles was not always yours, Rhae. Is it wrong if I wish for my mount to be mine and mine alone?”

No, Rhaenys thought. It was not. As much as she adored her mount, Rhaenys knew that Aunt Alyssa’s shadow would forever follow her. She was not blind to see how Uncle Baelon would flinch at the mention of how Meleys now belonged to Rhaenys, and not his wife.

“She chose you,” Rhaenys walked over to Gael, glancing at the creature behind her. “And I think that this dragon suits you perfectly, Gael. You always wear blue, it is only fitting that you should have the Blue Queen for your mount, don’t you agree?” Rhaenys smiled only to watch as Gael’s eyes widened in horror as she turned to face her dragon. 

“The Blue Queen,” she whispered slowly. “But… was she not young then?” 

Rhaenys ignored Gael’s mutterings, only to lay a hand on her shoulder. “You did it Gael, you claimed a dragon. There is no reason to harbor disappointment.” 

“Of course not,” Gael quickly responded. “It’s just…” 

“Well?” Rhaenys inquired. “Are you going to fly or not? You’ve read every tome in the library on dragon lore, pestered me for lessons atop Meleys for the past three years and have just claimed a dragon young enough to not need a custom saddle and you have yet to mount her?” Rhaenys cried in mock outrage. “Come on Gael, I have not taken to the skies in days!” 

“I am so profoundly sorry that I have so greatly inconvenienced you, Princess Rhaenys,” Gael feigned insult, placing her free hand over her heart before she reached up to grasp the snout of her dragon. 

“Apology accepted, Princess Gael,” Rhaenys threw back her head in laughter. “Come along then, she does not have chains, how will you fly if you are not under open air?” Rhaenys aided Gael in slowly guiding the Blue Queen forward to Meleys’ location, careful not to trip on the swinging of her tail or her aunt’s damnable cane she insisted on calling a staff. 

“How long do you think until the guards inform the court?” Gael pondered. 

“We have enough time to take off,” Rhaenys informed her, noticing that their party of two Princesses and a dragon had approached the main area. “It seems that the Princess acquired a mount of her own when she was supposed to be admiring hatchlings!” Rhaenys loudly declared, to the chuckles of the Dragon Keepers. “Would any of you good men be inclined to fetch one of the smaller, old saddles for the Princess so that we need not explain any injuries to Her Grace the Queen?” 

“Very well, Princess Rhaenys,” a few of the men shouted back. As she led the Blue Queen to the side of her own mount Rhaenys was surprised at how her aunt’s dragon was perhaps a sixth of the size of Meleys, despite being decades younger. 

“As far as anyone knows, Gael, I sent you to go fawn over baby dragons while I was having Meleys’ chains removed to ensure your own safety. There you stumbled upon the Blue Queen and something about her called to you,” Rhaenys said under her breath. She was handed an older looking saddle by one of the guards and began to carefully attach it to Gael’s new mount.

“I understand, Rhaenys,” Gael confirmed. “And when we return I shall ask my mother if she could be my flying instructor.” 

Confusion swept over Rhaenys. “You know very well that Grandmother hardly ever flies anymore, Aunt.” 

“I do,” Gael smiled sadly. “Yet she will be touched by my request anyway. I know very well that you will be my instructor. And perhaps when you leave I could get a few lessons from Baelon…” she mused, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves while studying how Rhaenys fitted the saddle. “He will need practice for teaching Viserys and Daemon when they claim their own mounts. I am sure I could convince him.”

“Baelon might be your future good father now,” Rhaenys muttered to herself. Her uncle had no daughters and she would not be surprised if Grandfather would have Gael wed to one of Baelon’s sons once he discovered that she had claimed a dragon. “Come back to me, Gael,” Rhaenys waved her hand in front of her aunt’s eyes. “Now climb on top of her, we have not much time until we must deal with the Court.” 

Rhaenys observed as Gael delicately pulled herself into the saddle, adjusting her riding leathers and strapping herself in. Gael gave her a bright smile until she started glaring at her staff as she debated what to do with it. Rhaenys tugged on her braid in annoyance before taking the staff from her niece and sliding it under a gap in the saddle. 

“Thank you, Rhae,” Gael praised. She placed a small hand on the Blue Queen’s right horn for a moment. “Are you not going to lead us out then?”

“Are you not going to give her a name?” Rhaenys fired back. Gael furrowed her brow.

“Tessarion,” Gael stroked the top of her dragon's head, and even though she looked straight into her eyes, Rhaenys knew that she was far away. “That was always supposed to be your name, wasn’t it? Tessarion, the Blue Queen?” Gael mused to herself. “Only I think I will call you Tessa.” 

Rhaenys snorted while she climbed atop Meleys’, double checking the chains that bound her to her seat. She glanced back at Gael who waved in confirmation. Rhaenys commanded her mount forward and she began to feel the familiar force of the wind across her face as the Red Queen soared into the skies. As she rose above the Dragon Pit, her aunt carefully navigating behind her, all Rhaenys could think was how of course Gael would name her dragon after a goddess of Old Valyria only to shorten it to Tessa.


End file.
